Letter # 436 July 30, 1944

New Guinea
Sunday
July 30, 1944
My Chubbins;
Wash day again.  I got up early and snuck up on it today.  All done already and it's only 8 in the morning.  That sounds like you when you take one of your notions to do something at an unorthodox time.  I like to get my work out of the way so I have all the best of the day to myself.  Then, come what may, I'm ready to enjoy myself. 
Our outfit has finally come to their senses after all this time and we are now wearing suntans, no leggings, and mechanics caps.  That is one hell of a lot better than heavy fatigues and all that other shit.  It makes a bit more washing but I'll gladly do that for the extra comfort.  My heat rash is clearing up in good shape since the change. 
My sore leg is much better today.  Gave it nearly eleven hours rest last night.  Can you imagine me staying in bed and sleeping for that long?  It isn't at all hard to do anymore.  Afraid you will have to be the first up in the morning.  Think you can do it?  That would be one way to be able to say good morning to you properly.  Think I'd like to start the day off right like that.  I love you sweetheart, but you're going to have trouble with me. 
I was just checking up on my letters and here is the score.  All present and accounted for except June 20, 27 & 28.  July 5 & 9.  That is air mail.  The last being July 11.  That isn't all bad.  Five lost out of 43.  They may not be lost, only mislaid.  I don't know how many V-mail you have written.  So far I've received six of them.  June 21, 25, 30, 30;  July 4, 13.  Total - 128 pages of letter from you.  That's some record, honey.  Don't think any of the other wives or girlfriends can even come close to it.  Gebby is about the only one that comes close.  His wife keeps 'em coming every day too.  That's swell, honey.  Helps ever so much.  Another way in which my wife is so much better than most.  It's very unusual to find beauty, brains, faithfulness, thoughtfulness, generosity, sweetness, and passion all in one person.  Gee, I'm glad I got'cha for my wife.  I'm really lucky.  I love you so much, even my feet hurt.  [half foot too].  Gosh honey, nothing I say even comes close to expressing what I want it to.  Every time I look at your pictures or think of you, I get a kind of knot in my chest and if you were in reach, I sure would hug and kiss you to death. - Well, almost anyhow.  I'd have to save some of you for another time.  I don't ever want to be without you again. 
I don't think I ever talked much of Sam Bowman.  He is one of the mechanics that went to Knox last fall after I came back.  He's in that group picture of the mechanics, taken the day we left Polk.  He's one of the T/5's.  Slim, dark, and average height.  Maybe you can pick him out.  Well, anyhow, he just got the news that he is the father of an 8 lb. boy.  His wife stayed at Knox when he was there.  They weren't as lucky as we were??  Remember your Mom said you'd probably come back pregnant?  She was there the whole time and they had a room close to camp.  They are from Sioux City.  He's 27.  Been having a hard time of it too.  Was rejected twice and then as soon as he got married, they took him.  He's been in and out of the hospital several times.  Was in just before we left the states.  Has been ailing and on light duty ever since we've  been here.  Seems to be heart trouble of some kind.  Things like that make a fellow glad he's healthy. 
Two of the other fellows in the picture are the gun mechanics.  T/4 Talkington from West Virginia.  Average size and wearing glasses.  He's the one that had my bag when I was home this spring.  Single, 26 and was a miner before.  The tall lanky T/5 is Kohan from Mass.  He's young, just out of school.  Single.  Slow moving, easy going.  Pitches for our ball team now. 
There, I guess that acquaints you with the mechanics and to some extent fulfills one of your requests.  Another rather poor letter.  Be patient, honey.  I'll get on the ball one of these days. 
Bye, sweetheart.  I'm loving you no matter how my letters sound.
Your hubby.
Norm.